


swim to you

by chii



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alien Gender/Sexuality, Alien Sex, Angst with a Happy Ending, Background Relationships, Background Slash, F/F, Femslash, Femslash February, Graphic Description of Corpses, Oviposition, Team Bonding, Team Dynamics, Ten Years Later
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-07
Updated: 2017-02-07
Packaged: 2018-09-22 18:38:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,045
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9620453
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chii/pseuds/chii
Summary: Being a Paladin of Voltron is hard enough. Being a Paladin of Voltron with a crush on the Princess is harder still. It doesn't help that everyone but Allura knows about it. (TYL fic.)





	

**Author's Note:**

> On plurk we were talking about pairings and then this happened:  
> lawful slutty: i want to write like tyl allura/pidge  
> everyone's tired and older  
> space baes: please i would love it  
> love the idea of tired older pidge who's still short but maybe like  
> lawful slutty: pidge has been in love with the princess for the last few years  
> FUCK YOU I'M WRITING THIS DRABBLE  
> I will be the problematic femslash I want to see in the Voltron fandom. 
> 
> Like 13k later this isn't a fucking drabble and also there's weird alien junk because if I'm going to write femslash with aliens you bet there's gonna be weird alien junk. Watch the warnings. If you're here for the Keith/Shiro or Hunk/Shay it's all background tho I'm endlessly tempted to write a second part with Keith/Shiro and their disaster of a relationship. 
> 
> Thanks to Brig, Tai, Samii, Misa and literally everyone else who had to listen to me bitch for two days straight about how mad I was that this got so long. Also kinda sorta thanks to BossToaster who writes some REAL GOOD FILTH that made me want to write more of the Allura with an ovipositor that I wanted to see in the world.

  
****

I. 

Cooking with Hunk is an awful lot like being in a show about doctors. She watches over whatever’s in the pot and hands things as necessary, except instead of scalpels it’s: 

“Spatula,” Hunk says and holds his hand out. Pidge passes the tool over and peers a little further over the edge of the counter she’s perched on, staring at the mess in the bowl. It’s faintly pink but so many years have gone by that she knows by now that whatever it is, it’s bound to taste good no matter what. Hunk’s only gotten better at cooking and it’s a good way to wind down after a fight. The most she has to worry about in this case is taste testing and stirring when instructed. It’s nice. Calming. 

“So, is it supposed to be pink or-” Pidge asks, just because she knows it’s going to wind Hunk up and it’s something that hasn’t lost its charm just yet. 

Predictably, Hunk lifts his head from the scribbled notes of the cookbook and narrows his eyes at her. 

“I can have Lance come in here and stir if you’re gonna judge,” he sniffs and goes to measure what are probably the Sylthian equivalent of chocolate chips into a measuring cup. 

“No, you can’t,” Pidge answers good naturedly. “I mean you could, but he’d just try to touch and stick his fingers everything. If you want to hit him with a spatula, though, I can go get him. That’s always fun.”

Which, not that she doesn’t try to taste everything, but after a battle Lance usually ends up in the common room with his headphones in, playing games on the system they finally got hooked up, or doing an intensive face mask...situation that makes him look like the Thing. Hunk’s learned that getting him in the kitchen after a battle isn’t the most productive and the others don’t come in for various reasons. Shiro’d tried to help once and somehow managed to burn the entirety of the meal which meant if he did ever join them, it was to watch, taste, and provide encouragement. 

Drawing her legs up to her chest, she ignores the way Hunk looks momentarily anguished at feet on the counter and wraps her arms around her knees, watching him fold in the chocolate chips. “Gimme,” Pidge says once they’re all folded in and takes the spoon she’s offered, swiping a finger over it to get a taste just as Allura walks in. 

“Oh, boy,” Hunk says and for all that the years have given Pidge stronger muscles and about two inches, she’s still another two inches short of kicking him in the side which is a goddamn shame. “Hey, Princess, you want to try? I’m making cookies.” 

“They’re chocolate chip cookies. I think.” Pidge lifts her shoulders in a lazy shrug; they taste enough like them to be feasibly called that. She holds out the spoon and Allura takes it carefully, swiping her own finger over it and licking it clean, pausing for a moment with her finger in her mouth, contemplating it. 

Hunk doesn’t notice, but Pidge stops a moment and then furiously looks down at the bowl because that’s the safer option, here. She doesn’t blush easily, but hates that it threatens every time Allura comes anywhere close and does _basically anything._ It’s one thing to mock Lance for having a crush on people that’s visible from space. It’s something else entirely when it’s her.

“They’re delicious,” Allura proclaims warmly, and sets a hand on Hunk’s shoulders which sets him off, blushing and grinning sheepishly. “I’ll have to try them again when they’re done. Have either of you seen Shiro, though?” 

“Training room, beating the tar out of the Gladiator with Keith,” Pidge says dryly and none of them look surprised by this revelation. The two of them are predictable to a fault. “Apparently today wasn’t hard enough on them.” 

“Thank you,” Allura says and the hand on Hunk’s shoulder goes to Pidge’s knee and she _doesn’t_ have a heart attack but only just barely. 

As soon as she’s gone, Pidge levels a finger at Hunk just as he opens his mouth. “Don’t.” 

“Dude.” 

_“Don’t,_ ” Pidge says again, with extra emphasis and her finger comes closer, hitting Hunk’s nose gently. 

“Yeah, see, I’m hearing you, but _dude,”_ Hunk presses and it’s a damn shame they probably need Hunk to cook for them instead of suffering through Coran’s meals because the temptation to smother him in his sleep is really, really high right now. “Just talk to her.”

“Yeah, no.” That’s enough cookie making for right now, Pidge decides, and slithers off the countertop with a soft thud when her boots hit the ground. “Let me know when the cookies are done.” 

Hunk wants to push the issue, she knows it, but he doesn’t which she’s grateful for. It’s one thing to have a crush on your team mate. It’s another to have a crush on a literal _princess_ and while she’s not technically their CO, she’s still a leader-- _their leader_ and they have to work together. Besides, Hunk doesn’t get it - he and Shay have been together for years but they only get to see each other every few months. That’s not the same as being trapped on a ship - and sure, it’s a really, really big one, but still a ship they’d be trapped on if they fought. She’s seen how fights between Shiro and Keith go. No thanks. 

“It’s fine, Hunk,” Pidge pats him on the back lightly as she slides out the door toward the hangar to do something with her mind that isn’t thinking about unobtainable princesses and stupid crushes that should’ve been stifled years ago. 

  
****

II.

Easy battles are good ones, except when they end quickly and everyone is still keyed up. They don’t happen often but when they do, the extra energy has to go somewhere. Sometimes they take their swimsuits up to the pool and have chicken fights, other times they split off to do their own thing. _This_ time, all of them went to the training rooms because the battle had interrupted the start of it and Shiro’s a stickler and a masochist. 

By the time her round’s over, she’s aching a little bit but she’d landed a solid hit against Keith and even Lance was winded from fighting her and Hunk, so she’d call it a productive time. The four of them were sprawled out on the sidelines while Allura and Shiro proceeded to throw each other across the room in impressive, if painful looking ways. 

“I feel kinda bad,” Lance says, squirming over so he can plant his head on Hunk’s thigh and still watch the two of them go, almost too fast to see. Allura does some sort of complicated maneuver that Shiro blocks with his arm and the two of them grin like the crazy people they are before starting up again. 

“What?” Keith shoots him a look but it lasts for only a second before he’s focusing on them again, watching Allura duck a punch and solidly elbow Shiro in the stomach. “Why?” 

“I mean, as much fun as it is watching him get thrown across the room, it’s gotta kinda suck knowing that you’re going up against thousands of years of experience. Shiro’s bruises are gonna have bruises.” There’s no pity in his tone, though. If anything, there’s a little bit of awe shared among them because while Allura thoroughly creams them every time they go one on one with her, Shiro’s the one who always gives her a run for her money. A moment later, Shiro hits the wall and they all flinch. “Oh, oh my god, ow?” 

“Concussions are fun, hey guys?” Hunk calls faux-cheerfully as Shiro lifts himself up off the mats from where he’d fallen after she’d thrown him. He looks decidedly unbothered by it which is just part of the problem.

“It’s fine.” Keith looks up from where he’s polishing his blade. Beside him, Pidge makes grabby hands at him from where she’s sprawled out on the mats, tshirt rolled up to the inside of her bra to help her cool down faster. He passes her the water next to him and continues while she jams the straw into it. “He likes it, anyway.” 

There’s a pause, Pidge debating if she’s going to call out something so easy but the decision is made for her because she hears one stifled laugh from Lance and that’s _it._ “He likes it, huh?” Pidge says, tone completely flat, and that’s enough to send everyone into peals of laughter while Keith shoves at all of them. 

“You’re all assholes and that’s not - he likes the _training,_ ” Keith says over the din of snickering and elbows tossed back and forth. 

“Dude no one needs to know that much about what you and bossman do in private.” 

“Yeah, what you do in your quarters is totally your business!” 

“I thought it was just the kinetic couplers in the walls that were making those banging noise at night but now, _gross, dude--”_

Keith’s groan of resignation is loud enough to get Shiro’s attention for a split second, just long enough for Allura to grab him and neatly flip him to the ground, pinning him again. It’s a stupidly graceful move and when it’s done, her hand planted neatly at the nape of his neck and the other with his arm pinned to his back, Pidge can’t stop staring, cheeks warm. It’s not fair that she looks regal even now, sweaty, wearing one of the spare tshirts, her hair tied back. 

“Sorry,” Keith calls across the room, rolling his eyes. “You’re all assholes.” 

“Yeah,” Lance agrees cheerfully and shifts to roll onto his side, watching them get up and do it all over again. “So is it an Altean and Shiro thing or what?” 

“Is what an Altean and Shiro thing? Throwing two hundred pound guys into walls?” She’s not actually sure that’s how much Shiro weighs, but with that much muscle and the arm she figures it’s probably pretty close. Then again, she can throw a hell of a lot more than that around. Never gets old watching her toss Shiro around like a sack of flour, though. 

“No, like-- look at her.” Lance gestures with one hand, lazily. All four heads turn and focus for a moment and Pidge gets it and promptly hates that she understands what he means. “We’re over here all gross and sweaty and both of them look like models the entire time. It’s not fair.” 

“I just get all blotchy when I’m hot,” Pidge says mournfully, pushing sweat-damp bangs back out of her eyes, grimacing when she sits up a little from where she was lying down. Underneath her, the faux-plastic makes an awful noise as she peels herself up. “They could at least have the decency to look winded.” 

There’s a chorus of muttered, envious agreement from all of them as they watch Shiro duck a punch that would have sent him flying, simply opting to tackle her. This time Allura hits the mat and then it’s a flurry of wrestling and thuds, the two of them rolling all over the floor furiously. 

“Five on Shiro next round,” Keith bets, ever loyal. Pidge rolls her eyes.

“Dude-- ew, but cute, and five on the Princess.” Lance lifts a hand up and over to Keith, wiggling his fingers. “Water me.” 

“What are you, a plant?” Keith mutters, but tosses a packet into his hand a moment later. 

“I’m with Lance,” Pidge says, watching the two of them spring apart, Shiro rolling to his knees and then his feet in a move that makes it seem like he doesn’t have any bones. “Hunk?” 

“Sorry, buddy,” Hunk pats Keith on the back with one massive hand and Keith rolls his eyes. 

Thirty seconds later, Allura’s flat on her back with a thump that makes all of them jump again. Shiro’s panting over her, still grinning like a lunatic, his hair sweat-soaked and falling out of the half-bun that it’s been pulled back into to keep it out of his eyes. “Yield,” Shiro growls, and Pidge feels no regret in punching Keith solidly in the arm when he squirms a little bit in response to that one word. 

“Don’t be gross,” she complains just for the way Keith tenses, bristling like an offended cat. 

“I’ll take my fifteen credits next time we go to the mall,” Keith says rather than rise to her bait, draining his water packet and crumpling it up to jam into a pocket for the trash later. He pops a new one open, killing half of it in one gulp. “Can’t believe you guys bet against _Shiro._ ” 

“He literally got thrown into the mats like fifty times-”

“We weren’t betting _against_ him--”

That launches a whole new round of groans and bickering back and forth, Lance groping until he can smack against Keith’s thigh with Hunk trying to grab at both of them and prevent himself from being the one smacked on accident. Off on the other side, Shiro reaches a hand down to help Allura up only for her to sweep his legs out from under him and pin him down in a moment, her laughter echoing in the large room. 

“Yield,” Allura purrs loud enough for all of them to hear. From the side, Lance mutters a curse.

Pidge goes still a moment, just long enough for Keith to lean over and elbow her, disgustingly smug. “Don’t be gross.” Turnabout is fair play but Pidge socks him in the arm again anyway, just because she can and Keith can’t be allowed to think he can get away with being a shit. 

“Cheaters aren’t winners,” Shiro wheezes from where he’s pinned, laughing as he’s let up and hefted to his feet with one tug from Allura. Even though they’ve been training for over an hour, he looks like he went to the gym _maybe_ , and Allura looks like she decided to go on a light jog for fun. Not like they’ve been fighting for a ridiculous amount of time. Pidge kind of hates both of them, honestly.

Keith chucks a water at Shiro once he’s close enough and the only other one left over is next to Pidge, so she picks it up and holds it out to Allura. Thankfully, the flush from all the running and training means it hides the reaction of heat crawling up her cheeks when Allura’s fingers linger just a little bit longer as she takes the packet. 

“I think that’s enough for today,” Shiro says and grabs at Keith’s water since his own was polished off in a second, finishing that one too. “Hit the showers and we’ll go get something to eat.” 

“You sure? I could stand to see the Princess toss you around a little more. Bet Keith could stand to watch a little more, too -- _ow_! Shiro! Did you see that he just _hit me-_ -” Lance clutches at his arm and looks affronted while everyone else rolls their eyes. 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. Training room punches don’t count,” Keith says sweetly, trailing after Shiro toward their quarters while Hunk lifts Lance with a tug and goes to offer Pidge a hand, too, only Allura’s is there already. 

There’s just the faintest pause before Pidge grabs at the hand and finds herself drawn up in a smooth movement, stifling the instinctive whoa at how easy it is. It’s one thing to know how strong she is and see it - it’s another thing altogether to feel it first hand and be reminded. Ignoring Lance’s lingering, smug look, she grabs her towel and unwinds her tshirt so it falls, wrinkled and damp back along the waistline of her pants. 

“You were-- really impressive out there, Princess,” Pidge says before she can talk herself out of it. Ahead of them, Hunk and Lance freeze and then quickly speed up, talking louder and faster, pushing at each other so they don’t seem like they’re listening in even though it’s obvious they are. 

“So were you,” Allura matches her pace easily though it’s still one step to two of Pidge’s because her legs are obscenely long. “I enjoyed watching you spar.” 

Before Pidge can even consider a comment in response, Allura turns down the hall to head to her room and Pidge is left staring, watching her go. From behind her, there’s a shadow and then two hands on her shoulders. 

“Pidge and the Princess, sitting in a -- ow, ow!” Lance wheezes as he’s elbowed neatly in the gut, Pidge heading for the door. 

“Training room punches don’t count!” she calls as the doors hiss closed behind her.

 

  
****

III. 

The thing about being a paladin is that you have to accept that you can’t save everyone. They’ve all had to make awful calls before that make it hard to sleep at night. Right now, Pidge should call this a loss and go, get them out of there while they still have a shot. There’s always another chance, that’s what Shiro’s repeated over and over. They had to make multiple attempts to rescue Matt and her dad when they’d gone after them and each subsequent time was harder than the last. The last attempt ended up with Keith nearly dead, in the healing pods for longer than anyone had ever been in them, his leg almost severed, a gaping hole in his stomach. 

“You understand what you must do,” Allura says again, low and stern, talking to the one person who she no doubt thinks will listen to her insane plan and agree with it. 

Pidge is pragmatic, Pidge knows how to look at things objectively. She knows, she understands, that leaving Allura behind (again, _again,_ to the mercy of the Galra) was the best option logistically. They both did. Hunk’s arm was dripping blood from the open gash where one of the Galra had landed a strike and Lance was pale-faced with pain, his ankle swollen in his boot, shoulder armor charred where a shot had caught him and burned clear through to skin. The odds of survival are good because the Galra want them alive to get the lions a little easier, but alive doesn’t mean in good shape, not any longer. 

“Pidge.” Allura’s voice is lower, more urgent the longer Pidge stares at her behind the bars, stomach twisting. “Pidge, you can do this. You know what you have to do.” 

Thirty seconds to open Allura’s gate, twenty-five if they were lucky. Those precious seconds would mean that they were all caught if those blast doors opened before they were ready. Lance and Hunk would need that time to get away, they’d take longer than she would to move with how injured they were. The Princess would need additional help; if Shiro and Keith managed to get to their lions and provide cover, they’d have a chance but that’s a really big _if._

_“Pidge,_ you understand what you must do,” Allura says, more insistently. Pidge digs her teeth into her cheek to stop herself from yelling because of course she does, but what she has to do is bullshit and they’re not leaving her behind again. 

“I do.” The pragmatic, the objective response is what she tries for, for all of a split second before sentimentality wins out. Allura’s face switches from resignation and relief to fury at the next words. “Sorry, Princess.” 

_“Pidge_ -” Allura starts, but it’s no good. One look at the other paladins and they’re already in agreement. Pidge doesn’t have words for how thankful she is for the red-stained flash of a smile from Lance or the way Hunk simply nods, understanding.

Hunk’s already heading for the door, bayard transforming into the massive gun he hauls around, angling it to point down the hall where the Galra are going to start flooding in from as soon as they manage to break the code that Pidge had drafted up which gave them door control. 

Over Allura’s protests, they work, no words needed after this many years of fighting together. Lance summons his bayard while Pidge pries open the panel on the prison door, staring at it for a long moment. If Keith were here, it’d be a hell of a lot easier but he and Shiro had searched the other end of the ship hoping to find Allura. It’d take them time to get back to this side and they still have to get to their lions. Her HUD calculates it - seven minutes normally to get from one end to the other. Five for Shiro and Keith at a run. Thirty seconds until the Galra manage to punch through, if not sooner. They can barricade themselves in the room if they have to, but that’s not ideal. 

Slowly, she inhales through her nose and exhales through her mouth, Shiro’s words to Keith echoing. _Patience yields focus._ It helps Keith most of the time but right this moment, she needs something, anything to get her through this and get all of them out. 

“Guys, what’s your status,” Keith calls over comms, a grunt and the sound of a fight echoing over it again. “Shiro and I are almost to the lions.” 

“Uhhh, give us-- a second,” Lance says, glancing at Pidge, waiting for her instruction. 

“Lance,” Pidge says sharply once she’s dug the wires out of the way and points to a little spot where he levels his rifle. “Fifteen seconds. Princess, step back.” 

Unsurprisingly, Allura’s pissed. She looks like she’s going to protest and then shoves herself back from the door to give Lance time to melt the internal workings of the gate, blue light bleeding from the hole it’s pushed into as he works. While he does that, Pidge pulls out her tablet and tries to think. The answer’s here somewhere - she knows that there’s something she’s missing she just has to _think._

“Wait-- Hunk, keep a watch on the door. If they push through I need you to cover us.” 

Pidge skitters from one end of the room to the other, punching a hole through the wall with her bayard, the metal melting when she cuts a circle into it and lets it fall to the ground with a clang. The schematics of the ship had led her here - the prisoner cells would need to have water going to them since they were self-cleansing; prisoners on the ship weren’t granted showers so much as cleaned off when the room was cleaned down. She remembered that from when they’d rescued Matt and her dad - they were kept in rooms and hosed down like animals, the same as Shiro was. The fury she felt then boils up again, white-hot and incandescent like it never left. 

If there were water pipes going through this section of the ship, then that meant they likely were carried up through the pipes in the hall. If she could bust into the wall here and find the pipes, she could read the schematics and figure out where to get Lance to shoot into the ceiling and send water down the hallway. It was the quickest way to take them out, but--

“Got it,” Lance calls from the side just as Hunk hefts his gun up a little tighter, clearly in anticipation of the doors opening. “Keith and Shiro are getting in their lions to provide backup; another squadron just hit this area of space, probably from the distress signal. We gotta move fast.” 

“You have to leave--” Allura’s back against the bars again, furious, the markings on her cheeks practically glowing with it. “ _Paladins, that is an order.”_

For a moment, all of them consider it; Yellow’s close enough he could just bust in and get them out, but the thought is discarded as soon as they have it. No, they have to do this. They’re so close and they’re not leaving her behind, not losing her again. Not after what the Galra were capable of. Not after the video that Haggar had sent them, mocking all of them as they tortured the Princess for no other reason but that they could. 

“Sorry, Princess,” Pidge says with absolutely no apology in her tone whatsoever. “Hunk, I need you to cover the door. Lance, I need you to shoot this spot I’m going to mark on your HUD as soon as that door opens enough, got it?” 

“On it.” Lance slides in as Hunk goes low, crouching, gun held steady while Lance settles his elbow on Hunk’s shoulder and slowly aims to the approximate area where Pidge has marked on the map. “On three?” 

“On three,” Pidge agrees, fingers flying over the tablet to overwrite the code that holds the doors shut now that they’ve melted the main locking mechanism. “It’s going to pop all of them open so we gotta be ready to go. It’s not gonna be pretty.” 

For a moment, Lance and Hunk don’t seem to grasp what she means, but Lance is the first to understand it when he places what he’s shooting up on the ceiling. “Pidge-?” he says tentatively, but his gun doesn’t waver and he stands straight, waiting for her word. 

“We don’t have any other choice,” Pidge grits out, inhaling and holding her breath like that’ll make this easier. “We can’t-- we won’t leave her.” 

“We’re good,” Hunk lines up with a deep breath and Pidge punches the button, listening to the cells in the block all sputter, save for the one holding Allura. It hisses and the metal inside makes an awful grinding noise and pops open while the door that Hunk and Lance are guarding starts to slide open as well. The moment there’s enough room Hunk starts firing and Pidge watches Lance settle, breathing in slow, aiming, and exhaling to fire.

There’s no doubt in her mind that the shot will land where they need it to; the question is if she has the guts to do what’s necessary directly after. A line of blue streaks down the hallway and melts through the metal, a second shot directly after sending water exploding out of the ceiling, cascading down the hall. There are at least fifty- maybe a hundred waiting there, funneled by the choke point they’d set up to try and divide and conquer. Fifty, maybe a hundred who are going to die as soon as she acts. 

“Lance, get ready to help Allura,” Pidge says tersely, watching the water get closer, dribbling down the hall toward them. She can take this - she’s seen awful things but Lance doesn’t need to see it. It’s unnecessary to protect him, but if she can save one of them the nightmares that come with this sort of action, she will. Another row of Galra fall to Hunk’s gun and her bayard charges, humming in her hand. One more moment and it’s close enough; she thrusts her bayard forward and the tip springs out, sinking into the ground where the water surrounds it. One of the Galra sees what’s about to happen and jerks back with a shout of terror, but there’s too much water and it’s too fast. The machines don’t make any noise when they’re fried, but the Galra do. There’s no way to cover her ears with the helmet, but she can’t do that anyway. Maybe the reason the Galra are the way they are is because they don’t realize the consequences to their actions. The least she can do is watch what she’s doing. 

“Pidge,” Hunk says, voice hoarse as he watches bodies twitch and jerk, steam rising up from the mess. The smell of cooked flesh starts to permeate down the halls, arguably worse than the choked screams and _that’s_ what makes Lance still from where he’s winding an arm around Allura, coaxing her up. 

“Jesus-- Jesus, Pidge, shit--” Lance whispers furiously, no doubt remembering the same thing Pidge is - the village they’d come upon a year ago where nothing was left but burnt husks. The Galra had decided that rather than fight and risk Voltron adding another planet to the alliance, they’d simply burn the entire planet. When they’d landed, there wasn’t anything for Lance to freeze to stop the fires. The smell was the worst part of it, after the sight and knowledge that the Galra were so desperate that they’d do this. 

“Lance. Just-- let’s go. Please,” Pidge croaks, desperately breathing through her mouth but that’s not much better. The last word gets him to move, though, which is what she wanted. If she’s careful, she and Hunk can keep him from seeing it; he’d had enough nightmares after the burnt corpses. “Hunk, can you--” 

He doesn’t respond at first but when she presses a hand to his arm and nods to Lance, he gets it, shifting until he’s blocking the view when Lance comes out the door with Allura leaning heavily on him. Lance doesn’t try to look, which is a relief, because she’s not tall enough to block everything. The smell is bad enough. One look at Allura confirms she’s aware of what happened; her jaw is clenched tightly and Pidge guesses it’s probably not just due to pain. She’s in rough shape but she’s _alive_ and that’s what matters. The hallway’s filled with the scent of burnt meat and hair and Pidge presses a trembling hand against the tablet to close all the doors in this wing once more. They’re lucky it works but it won’t last forever.

“I’ve got your location; Keith’s drawing them off, I’m going to pick you guys up next hallway down. You ready?” Shiro’s voice crackles over the comms but it doesn’t matter, they’re getting out of there with Allura. That’s the important part. 

“On our way.” Hunk slips out into the hall first while Pidge activates her shield and covers Lance and Allura as they make their way out, the path to the hallway Shiro was talking about showing up on their HUD. 

It takes them longer than they’d like to get there; they get swarmed three different times but manage to fight their way through to Shiro. The smell of burnt flesh and fur lingers even when they manage to pile into Black’s cockpit, fussing over each other to distract from the horror show they were leaving behind. 

Pidge is probably the least injured out of all of them so she starts wrapping Hunk’s wound but a moment later, she inhales with her nose and for a moment all she can smells is the acrid scent of blood and burning and lurches to the side, desperately trying not to vomit on the inside of Black. A moment later, a little container is handed to her and that’s it. She gets as far as jerking her helmet off the rest of the way and listens to it hit the ground but can’t do anything besides heave into the container so hard that she shakes. 

No one asks what or why - they all know, even if they hadn’t landed on that planet. Lance is pale and sweating but hasn’t puked yet and Shiro’s looking over his shoulder at her so softly that she hates it, hates that all of them understand in different ways. “I’m fine,” she bites out, and rinses her mouth with one of the water packets they keep just in case they’re marooned somewhere. She swishes and spits and then grimaces when she realizes she’d puked in one of Black’s drawers. They’ll toss it into decontamination, but she still hates that she did it. 

The rest of the flight back is near silent; Allura’s arm is at an awful angle and there’s a bruise on her cheek and lip that would promise to be even more awful tomorrow once it sets in fully if they didn’t have the pods. She’s making quiet, pained noises with every breath but there’s nothing they can do til they get her into a healing pod. Her gown is torn and dirtied and her hair is disheveled but she still looks _regal_ , even now. Pidge’s heart clenches at the sight of it, and skips a beat when she realizes that Allura’s looking right at her. 

Flustered isn’t a word that she can use often, but it’s the closest thing to how she feels, holding a fucking drawer full of puke because even after years of fighting, she can’t take that scent. Shame crawls through her, oily and awful and she spends the rest of the flight with her eyes firmly closed and the drawer off to the side, breathing shallowly through her mouth. 

When they land, Allura shakes off any attempts to help her. The drawer is dumped into decontamination and Pidge pats Black’s paw apologetically on her way past. “Sorry, girl,” she murmurs and Black rumbles softly in response. It’s only when she goes for the door that she realizes Allura’s hung back, clearly waiting for her. _Great._ “Princess, if you’re going to yell at me, can you do it after you’ve fixed your arm and we’ve all showered?” 

She’s not as easy to sway as Shiro is; a particularly pathetic look and softer tone don’t do anything to soften her up, so Pidge doesn’t bother. Instead, she drags a hand through her hair and looks up at Allura through messy bangs, itching for a fight even though they just got out of one. She doesn’t want to be yelled at - not when they did the right thing, even if it was the stupid one. “We got you out, no one di-- none of us were _injured_ during it and we’re back home.” 

“That is not _the point_.” Even pale with pain and her arm broken, she still looks like a princess and it’s equal parts frustrating and stunning to look at. Her composure at any given moment is something that Pidge has always envied but never wanted to emulate, really. “All of you could have been killed.” 

“Yeah, but we _weren’t_ , so that’s not a point!” Great, having a fight right before Allura steps into the pod for a day is exactly what Pidge wanted. Fantastic. “You can save the yelling at me for when I actually mess something up.” 

“That’s not-” Allura withdraws and looks startled, only to furrow her brows again. “That is not the point either, Pidge.” 

“Okay, so what is? They _hurt you!_ Haggar sent us a vid of what happened to your _arm_ and we watched - I can’t--” God, she hates getting upset. Hates the way her voice cracks and her eyes get red and burn and hates that she can’t control a damn bit of it and then her glasses get _tear marks_ and those are a bitch to wash off. “I couldn’t do it, okay. Not after Shiro, not after Matt and Dad. Not-- not with what we know they do to prisoners, now. We had to get you out of there.” 

“You did a lot more than just break me free, Pidge,” Allura says carefully, like she’s not quite sure she wants to broach the subject of _you killed dozens of Galra for me_. It’s not the same as blowing up a ship mid battle and they both know it.

“So what?” Pidge explodes with it before she can stop herself, furious and shaking and unable to get the fucking _smell_ out every time she inhales. “They-- I know, I know, okay, I know all Galra aren’t bad and I know some of them are good and maybe there were some good ones on that ship, but if they were good then they still let that happen to you! What do you _want_ from me?” 

“Pidge.” Allura’s voice has gone terribly, terribly soft now and Pidge swipes angrily at her cheeks, staring up at her. “Why couldn’t you leave?”

“Because you were still there!” That’s fine that Allura doesn’t get it, and that’s fine, that’s okay, but that doesn’t mean Pidge wants to explain it, either. “Can you just-- get in the pod, please? You’re _hurt.”_

The tears make it too hard to see anything which means that when one cool hand cups her too-hot cheek, Pidge jerks. “Pidge, look at me,” Allura requests softly and thanks, but no, Pidge really doesn’t want to because she’s blotchy and sweaty and gross. Softer still, “Katie.” 

It’s jarring enough that Pidge forces herself to blink tears back and looks up at Allura, freezing a moment later because she doesn’t look mad. “...Are you...not gonna yell at me?” 

“No,” Allura’s thumb sweeps a gentle line over Pidge’s cheek where she’d have markings if she were Altean, but she doesn’t, so it just smears tears. “Can you tell me why you wouldn’t leave?” 

Instantly, Pidge tenses, because she _gets it._ She’s not sure if one of them squealed to her- she’ll figure that out later, but it doesn’t matter right now because Allura knows and Pidge wants to lock herself in her room and go dig into a computer until she stops feeling flayed open by the weight of Allura’s eyes on her. “Who told you?” she demands mulishly, shifting her weight from foot to foot. 

“No one told me. Secrets are hard to maintain on a ship like this.” The bruise looks all the worse up close, now that Pidge can actually look at it fully. “How long?” 

“I-- don’t know. A while. Doesn’t matter. I’m sorry, it’s-” Allura’s hand tightens on her chin just as she tries to draw back and Pidge swings from upset right back to a little startled and wide-eyed at the strength in just a few fingers. “It’s not going to get in the way of anything, it’s fine, I won’t be weird, I promise--” 

“Katie.” She hasn’t been called Katie this much since they rescued her father and Matt and Lance had spent an entire day repeating all the childhood nicknames that the two of them had spilled. It’s weird, but it’s not bad-weird. What’s even weirder is that Allura’s leaning in and oh, oh god-- _oh god._

One hand darts up and presses firmly against Allura’s mouth to stop her from what was definately going to be a kiss, further proving that _everything is bullshit._ “I puked,” Pidge says dumbly, and keeps going because her mouth doesn’t understand when to fucking stop, apparently. “Like-- a lot. And I-- You can’t. Were you going to kiss me?” 

She has to take her hand away from Allura’s mouth to get an answer which she realizes belatedly, so she drops her hand and fists them at her sides, staring up at Allura in disbelief. “I was, but that’s...a fair point.” 

Allura confirming it only makes Pidge all the more baffled, so she pushes past it with single-minded determination. 

“What-- no. No! You have a broken arm and I- no. Come on, you’re getting in a healing pod and we are gonna talk about this-- later.” Healing pod, shower for Pidge, food, and then a restless night of thinking about all of this until Allura wakes up tomorrow and they get to sort all of this out. Sounds great. Allura doesn’t fight it - apparently walking around with a broken arm is enough to get her to cooperate. Pidge scoots under her good arm - she’s not tall enough to really support her too much but Allura does rest some of her weight on her to go a little easier on the injured ankle.

The pod hisses open when Allura presses a palm against it and gingerly, Pidge helps her settle back into the bed portion, still trying to wrap her mind around this. “Get some rest, Princess,” Pidge says after a moment too long of just looking at her like she’s a particularly difficult piece of machinery to figure out. 

“I’ll still mean it when I wake up,” Allura says like it’s some kind of warning; Pidge sniffles unattractively and nods just once before activating the healing pod, watching frost creep up over the glass, Allura’s eyes sliding shut. 

Allura’s right about one thing, though. There aren’t any secrets, even on a ship this big. Some asshole stayed behind listening to them because as soon as Pidge is done showering, Hunk and Lance are lingering like a fart that won’t leave. “What.” 

“Sooo, like,” Lance draws out the first word, steepling his fingers. “What are your intentions with our Princess?” 

“I’m not having this conversation with you,” Pidge says, even as she’s grateful that none of them are mentioning the mess they’ve left behind on the Galra ship. 

Hunk edges closer, trying really, really hard for innocent, looking up at the ceiling. “So you...talked to her?” 

“What part of not having this conversation did you not-” Pidge starts, only for Keith to stroll in, hands jammed in his pockets. “Don’t you dare.” 

Keith’s grin is as sharp as his knife as he comes closer, absolute asshole that he is. “Make sure you have her home before it’s dark--” he starts and Pidge launches herself at him, neatly tackling him to the ground because he’s the only one uninjured enough to take it. Shiro wanders in a moment later, barely giving the two of them a second look as he goes for a glass of water. _“Shiro!”_

“Mmm? Good form, Pidge.” Shiro hops up onto the countertop and crosses his legs underneath himself. From the side, Hunk exhales unhappily, muttering about how they were all raised in a barn or something because in _his house_ you don’t put shoes on the damn counter tops. “I’m not saving you, you probably deserved it.” 

“Ha!” Pidge crows, and mashes his face into the ground just because she can, sitting on his back. “Screw all of you. Except you, Shiro.” 

Over Lance’s loud protesting Shiro hums and smiles, propping his chin up on his knees. No doubt he’ll talk to her about what happened later, but right now, they’re all content to wait and address it later, pretending like it didn’t happen. “Thanks,” he says but that pause is a little too long and his smile is a little too shit-eating for her to be comfortable. “So, you and the Princess, huh?” 

“I have instructional videos if you have any questions,” Coran calls into the room, waving briefly before continuing on before Pidge can throw something at him in retaliation. 

“Does _everyone know?_ I’m not talking to any of you assholes about this.” One final angry little ruffle of Keith’s hair just for the noise he makes and she rolls off of him to go hunt in the fridge, faux-angry but more than anything else, warm all the way down to her toes. What happened was awful. She’s going to have nightmares for months afterward, but Lance won’t have as many, and they rescued the Princess. They have to take their wins where they can get them. And when Allura wakes up, Pidge is alone, pretending that the other paladins aren’t waiting and listening to every word that they say, that Lance doesn’t whoop loud enough to give them up when Allura bends down and presses chilly hands to Pidge’s cheeks when she kisses her. 

  
****

IV.

Pidge misses having long hair, sometimes. Misses dresses, misses family dinners where Shiro would crash, misses their dog, misses _everything_ about home. Things that she didn’t think she’d miss, like how her dad used to burn the pancakes sometimes, or the way her mom would play with her hair when they’d sit on the couch together. 

It’s easier, now that Matt and Sam are safe on another planet, helping out with the Resistance. They’re one less thing she has to worry about but it means that they’re not there on the ship. It’s safer for them, but sometimes, she misses them even though she knows they’re alive. Maybe it’s just a day for feeling melancholy. 

Frowning at herself in the mirror she turns this way and that, trying to judge how long her hair has gotten. She might miss having it long but it makes no sense doing it out here. Allura isn’t knee deep in battles that often like Pidge is, and long hair is way too easy to jerk. Even Keith keeps his short, grumbling when it starts to grow out too long. If she’s feeling like hers is too long then Keith’s probably in the same boat, which means she can ask him to cut it. 

She dresses quickly, a habit learned from the Garrison but maintained here on the castle ship. Allura’s still asleep in bed, worn out after the day’s need for wormholes. She stirs just a little when Pidge comes in to press a kiss to her cheek but doesn’t do more than sigh quietly and roll onto her belly in bed. Pidge tugs the covers up to her shoulders, smooths them down and then exits the bedroom silently.

It’s a day off, which means she spends a solid two hours tinkering with Hunk until breakfast and then hunts Keith down after, the two of them in one of the common room bathrooms. 

“You know, you could probably grow it out,” Keith says around the rubber band in his mouth, reaching back to tie his own hair back into a tight ponytail against the back of his head. “The Princess does.” 

“Yeah, but the Princess isn’t fighting people in close quarters most of the time.” Pidge hops up onto the counter to wait for Keith to judge how far to adjust the ponytail and then twirls her fingers to get him to spin around and face the wall once he’s done. One hand grabs the end of the ponytail while she holds the knife with the other. A few careful saws and the hair falls off and to the ground, rubber band only doing so much to hold the hair together. Keith shakes it out with a few shakes of his head and then examines it, the two of them staring at him in the mirror for a moment. “Dunno, it looks good to me.” 

“Yeah, turn around, your turn.” 

Pidge hops down and does the same with her own hair, twisting it back and tying it with the rubber band, but before Keith can make the cut, the bathroom door opens and Lance pokes his head in. “...Uh, okay, not what expected, but I can roll with it--” Lance starts and then seems to focus in once he realizes what he’s looking at. “I- are you guys cutting your hair with Keith’s super special Galra knife?” 

Pidge and Keith look from Lance to the knife, not quite sure what the issue is. “Uh...yeah?” Keith shrugs, looking at Pidge who is equally puzzled at what the issue is if not the whole two people in a bathroom thing. 

“I-- with a knife. Your hair. Neither of you see anything wrong with this, do you,” Lance asks, sounding like he’s inquiring after an ailing family member rather than the state of their hair. “Actually, don’t answer that. You’re both terrible and you deserve split ends.” 

“I really thought you were going to go the ‘why are you both in the bathroom’ route,” Pidge says, Keith agreeing with her almost instantly while going back to grabbing a handful of her hair, angling the knife. “What’d you want?” 

There are two quick drags against the main chunk of her tied back hair and then it goes loose, her hair falling back above her shoulders messily. It’s not perfect, but it is sort of worth it for the awful wheeze that escapes Lance as he watches it happen, dragging a hand over his face. “This is the most upsetting thing I’ve ever seen.” 

“Lance. What do you _want?_ ” Keith’s patience isn’t endless but at least they’re done cutting their hair. Both of them strip out of their shirts while they’re standing in there to shake any bits of hair out, Pidge grabbing a towel to get the edges damp and swipe it over the nape of Keith’s neck while he returns the favor a moment later. 

“One, I’m stealing Pidge to go play games. Two, Shiro’s looking for you.” Lance scoots back so they can brush the hair up and toss it into the trash, still looking vaguely horrified at finding out that after all these years this is how they cut their hair. “Shiro knows better, right?” 

Rolling his eyes, Keith leads the way out the door toward the dining room, Pidge and Lance following behind him to split off to the common room once they’re closer. “He uses something Coran got him - some kinda Altean beard trimmer or something.” 

Momentarily placated at the fact that he and Shiro evidently use the same things on his hair, Lance lets it go and grabs the doorjamb to the common room, swinging into it with a little salute. “Okay, well, Pidge and I are going to rescue some pixel princesses and I’m going to do my best to never think about what awful shape your hair must be in.” 

Waving off Lance’s concern, Keith splits off from them and Pidge goes to claim her side of the couch, tossing her feet into Lance’s lap once they settle down and turn the system on. For a while, it’s nice. Mindless entertainment. The others filter in one by one, Hunk bringing his latest engineering experiment in so he can bounce ideas off of Pidge between games. Keith drags in Shiro and the two of them curl in at the end of the couch, the soft blue light of Shiro’s Altean hand glowing in the dim light of the common room. Coran next, settling in a chair next to Hunk to peer at whatever he’s working on. Allura’s last, dressed immaculately, every hair in place. She circles to come in on Pidge’s side once Pidge makes room for her, plumping up a pillow to place in her lap for when she’s sprawled back out. Her feet go into Lance’s lap and her head goes into Allura’s. 

After a few moments, she feels Allura start to stroke her hand through her hair, pausing as soon as she reaches the end. “Keith, me, and a knife, don’t ask,” Pidge says before any questions can be asked and from her feet, Lance groans and tosses his arms up in the air. “Listen, it looks fine! None of you even knew that’s how we’ve been doing it, so--” 

“With a _knife?_ ” Shiro asks incredulously and Keith pushes himself up from where he was pillowed on his chest. Shiro’s hand plants itself on Keith’s head and pushes him back down, only for the two of them to scuffle briefly, ending with Keith hiding his smile into Shiro’s shoulder when it’s done. Gross. 

“Well,” Allura starts, fingers stroking from Pidge’s scalp down the shorter ends of her hair, starting the soothing rhythm up again. “I think it looks lovely.” 

“Ooh, nice save.” Lance passes the controller over which makes it hard to tell if he’s talking to the Princess or to the TV, but Pidge takes it up and starts where he’d been killed, furiously mashing buttons. 

It’s hard to miss having long hair, anyway, when she has all of Allura’s to play with to her heart’s content. At night, after they’ve eaten and watched a terrible alien drama in the common room, Allura settles herself at her bench in front of the mirror and Pidge works her fingers through her hair in slow, easy strokes. It gets knotted sometimes, but not nearly as often as it should with how long it is. Still, Pidge likes how calming it is, working her fingers through it from root to end, gently undoing the two ties that keep most of it out of Allura’s face. 

From there, it’s a process brushing it, starting from the ends and working her way back up to the roots in chunks. Allura’s hair is thick- Pidge can’t imagine having hair that long, especially if it was that thick. She had enough as it was and before she’d cut all of it off, that was as long as she could ever imagine having it. 

“If you like,” Allura starts, and Pidge goes warm and tingly at the way that she knows Allura’s sleepy and relaxed, just from three little words and the tone behind them. “Mmm. If you like, in the future, I’m happy to cut your hair. I have scissors.” 

For a moment, Pidge considers it. It’s probably the most consideration she’s given to her hair since slicing all of it off and joining the Garrison, but the thing is, she doesn’t…care much. Everything else is so much that she can’t bring herself to care about cutting her hair the proper way, split ends or no. “I’m alright. It’s just hair.” 

Gently, she digs her fingers into the soft mass of Allura’s and starts breaking it into three chunks, carefully braiding all of it together. Some bits and pieces break free but it’s just to keep the lion’s share of it out of her face and out of the way when they sleep. When the braid’s finished and tied off, Pidge loosely twists it up and secures that, too, leaning in to drop her arms over Allura’s shoulders and press a kiss to the nape of her neck once it’s done. 

“So long as you’re certain,” Allura doesn’t quite look like she believes but she also isn’t going to fight it, so that’s a relief. Yawning hugely, but covering it with a hand so it looks elegant, Allura rises up and offers her other hand once she’s by the bed’s side. “Come to bed?” 

For a second, Pidge hesitates, just drinking it in. Sometimes she can’t shake the feeling that this is -- wrong, or weird, or like it’s not real and she’s going to wake up someday with things how they _should_ be. There’s just something bizarre about climbing into bed with an alien princess from space. An alien princess that happens to wear a _sleeping_ gown made out of something that shimmers like literal stars, while Pidge tugs on a pair of briefs and shrugs on one of Shiro’s stolen tshirts. 

“Katie,” Allura says, even more gently, and Pidge snaps out of it. 

“Coming! Coming, just-- gimme a sec.” She shucks her socks off and tosses them, only to blow out a breath and go grab them, making sure they actually make it into the bin for laundry. Scratching at her belly on the way back, she takes a moment to look at Allura splayed out on the bed, the silver of her hair standing out strikingly against the navy of her sheets. For a moment, she just looks - she’s allowed to do that, they’re space-dating so it’s fine, but it still feels a little weird to know she can crawl into bed and will wake up next to her. “Do I get a prize for tossing my socks in the bin?” 

“Mmmmm,” Allura draws the hum out and stretches, one long leg sliding out from under the covers, her gown dropping to mid thigh as she lifts her legs and raises her hands to the headboard in a stretch that’s borderline indecent despite how covered she is. “I could think of a prize if you can find two other pieces of clothing to leave in the bin.” 

Shit, did she leave socks anywhere else? She thought she got the ones from this morning when she changed, but a moment later after scanning the pristine floors, she gets what Allura means. Grinning, she forgoes any sort of sexy stripping and hauls her shirt off to toss into the bin, shimmies out of her briefs and hauls herself up onto to the bed from the bottom, crawling over Allura’s legs until she can settle on top of Allura’s thighs, plucking at her dressing gown lazily. 

“Do I get an extra prize if I help you get this into the bin, too?” Pidge asks, leaning up and into Allura’s body with a shiver as her nipples graze the material of her gown. She’s not quite tall enough to straddle Allura’s thighs like that and also steal a kiss, but Allura bends down and gives her one anyway, lingering, breaking apart to drag her teeth over Pidge’s lower lip when she pulls back. 

“Let’s find out, my paladin,” Allura purrs and arches her back to help Pidge slide the gown off of her. It slithers to the ground, not put in any bin whatsoever, but unsurprisingly, Allura doesn’t seem to care.

  
****

V

Her whole body aches when she gets out of Green; they weren’t even tossed around that much but after that one particular hit where her head had snapped back, everything felt awful. 

“Lemme take a look at you, girl,” Pidge sighs and Green lifts herself up on her feet with a grind of gears that Pidge makes a note to check on. Heading back to the castle wasn’t the best time or place to be doing repairs, but now that they’d bought some time, she could really work her way in there and get all of that sorted out. The mindlessness of it was appealing; she knew the insides of Green better than she probably knew her own. 

A few chips and scuffs, a dent she’d need to hammer out, and the blaster marks had partially melted in some of the metal and paint, but it’d been years and she was planning on repainting soon anyway. The metal parts could be formed back into shape, the gears could be replaced tonight once she looked over the manuals and figured out exactly which pieces were back there and how to get to them. “Get some rest, we’ll get you sorted out soon,” Pidge calls, patting her hand at one of Green’s massive paws. 

The connection goes dim in her head which means Green’s in shutdown mode; Pidge grabs one of the tablets on the way out and then heads down the hall. She has options for how to spend her time post battle. Hunk’s likely fury baking in the kitchen and will need a taste tester. Lance just got some sort of new face mask he probably wants to test out. She could probably go sit with Keith and Shiro while they go over battle post-mortems and analyze everything that happened during it to figure out how to fight more effectively later. Or, she could simply head into Allura’s room where there’s a warm bath and a likely naked princess waiting for her.

It’s cheating, a little, she supposes. By the time the battle’s finished and they’re on their way back, Allura’s already soaking in water that smells like strawberries. By the time they’re all landed and heading to their respective rooms, she’s been at it for a while which means the water’s perfectly hot and the whole room is steamy and smells almost edible. Pidge yanks her helmet off and tosses it onto the absurdly plush bed. The rest of her armor follows shortly after and she’s left in the black body suit, padding to the adjoining suite with the in-ground bath tub. 

“How’re you doing? Coran said that last wormhole jump took a lot out of you.” While the years have made it so that Allura’s more attuned to the ship than ever, jump after jump, especially long ones, take it out of her. From the tub, there’s a noise approximating a response, like she starts and stops halfway through a word, letting it be a noise of acknowledgment. “That good, huh, Princess.” 

The suit gets unzipped and tossed over a chair and Pidge shimmies out of her briefs, leaves her socks halfway to the bath and starts to walk into the tub. Allura must be out of it if she’s not making any comment about the clothing, but either way, Pidge will grab it before she notices or cares.

The pool was extravagant enough when they’d discovered it but when five years ago they’d finally went into the closed off portions of the ship, Lance had nearly wept over finding out that the royal suites had bath tubs you could walk into. Coran and Allura had opened one of the rooms up so anyone could use it if they wanted but by that point Pidge hadn’t needed to since more nights than not she was sleeping in Allura’s room. Besides, this one was clearly superior given that the adjoining suite had Allura’s massive bed in it which meant she never had to bring clothes to the bath. 

“I love you, but I very well may fall-- fall asleep on you if you aren’t careful,” Allura says, and appropriately, a yawn breaks through halfway what she’s trying to get out. “You left your socks on the ground, didn’t you.” 

“I’ll get ‘em in a bit.” Pidge sinks one foot into the bath and groans quietly, sliding her other foot in and then slowly inches closer to Allura’s side of the bath bit by bit. “And you can fall asleep on me, if you want. I’ll wake you up before you get all pruney.” 

There are only a few feet between them, but Alteans apparently don’t design their baths with short people in mind because if Pidge tries to stand at the deepest spot, it hits just over the bridge of her nose. It means that she has to propel herself from one side to the other, bath water sloshing as she comes closer. Truthfully, she’s in the same boat of being exhausted and afraid she’ll fall asleep in the bath, but the alarm she’s set should keep them from falling asleep and drowning on accident. 

Once she’s on Allura’s side of the bath, she shamelessly takes a moment to appreciate the sight in front of her - Allura’s arms resting on either side of of the pool, stretched out, bubbles doing next to nothing to hide the soft swells of her breasts. Just a moment of appreciation and then Pidge slides up into Allura’s lap, wet fingers tracing the line of bubbles over her chest. She can’t pretend to be innocent and Allura wouldn’t believe her if she tried. 

After the tight constriction of the suit and the press of armor against her, the slickness of the water and Allura’s skin under it is a welcome change. Pidge presses a lingering kiss to the line of her throat and inhales the scent of strawberries, closing her eyes for a moment. One of Allura’s hands lifts and strokes back and forth over the line of her back, tracing the knobs of her spine lightly. 

For all the nonchalance, for all the times they’ve nearly lost each other in a battle, there’s still a moment that happens afterward. A moment where it’s real, where they have to confront the very real risk that while that battle wasn’t their last, they’re one step closer to the one that is. 

“You’re as bad as Shiro, you know. I can hear you thinking. We’re all fine, Princess,” Pidge murmurs, soapy hands sliding up to cup Allura’s cheeks and tuck her hair behind her ears. The dry strands cling to Pidge’s wet fingertips like spun silver until she manages to sweep them behind, smoothing them back. “We’re all fine. You got us out in time.” 

She makes sure that she waits until Allura opens her eyes again so she knows that Pidge is serious. She won’t press the issue; they’re both exhausted but Pidge also knows that it’s been years and Allura and Shiro both still beat themselves whenever a mission is done if anyone ends up with the slightest limp. 

“I know,” Allura says finally and sits herself up, strokes her hands down the narrow line of Pidge’s waist and then grabs at Pidge’s thighs to lift her, turning her around so she’s facing the other direction, the two of them wiggling until it’s comfortable. It means she can lean back against Allura’s breasts, though, which is awfully nice. What’s nicer still is the fact that Allura grabs one of the tiny glass bottles and drops a few droplets into her hand. “It doesn’t mean I worry any less.” 

“I love you,” Pidge says in one quick rush because she really, really does, especially when Allura breaks out this stuff. Alien Icy Hot is what they’ve dubbed it and it’s pretty much the best thing ever. Better still is when it’s applied by your girlfriend who can crush an alien-made metal door with her bare hands. “Thanks.” 

Allura hums out her laughter and starts working her hands over Pidge’s and no, really, Pidge loves her, loves her a ridiculous amount. Technically, she ought to protest- Allura was the one who did all the hard work here, but then she starts digging her fingers into the meat of Pidge’s arm and all she can do is melt. 

The position works all the way up until Allura reaches Pidge’s shoulder but just as Pidge is getting ready to move, Allura stops her. “You have another arm.” 

Which Pidge would normally agree with but she feels inclined to protest given Allura just transported them halfway across about thirty galaxies. “Trust your Princess, my paladin,” Allura says and that’s not fucking fair at all, using that voice right against Pidge’s ear. Not when it’s all syrupy smooth and relaxed from lying in here for so long before Pidge even got here. “Let me spoil you a little.” 

In the end, she wins; Pidge sinks back against her and lets her work over the other arm and then back up to her shoulders. It’s her back that’s the most worked up; Allura starts with small, warm circles with her thumbs and then gradually increases the pressure after rubbing the oil on her hands, stroking her fingers up the line of Pidge’s back, working out each little bit of tension with single-minded determination. She should object, or something, she should do a lot of things, but instead she’s making soft, happily hurt little noises as Allura works every bit of tension out of her upper back and then starts in on her lower. 

After a bit, the position isn’t conducive to continuing, but Pidge doesn’t have it in her to argue when Allura shifts them. Instead, she’s stuck doing a rather impressive impression of a human puddle, sinking back into the little sitting area Allura had been lounging in while Allura works her way up one leg from Pidge’s feet. Once, she’d been worried about this - a few ‘boyfriends’ or ‘girlfriends’ when you’re too young to even know what that entails don’t count and Allura was a princess. Was she supposed to do things like shave every day and try to do something with her hair? Was she supposed to wear makeup? Lance could probably help her with that, but she wasn’t sure if she cared enough to try.

As it turned out, Allura hadn’t given a damn in any way, shape or form. She’d pointed out that she’d been with other species out there and some of them had fur - if humans grew it sparsely, for one and two, it didn’t bother Pidge, then she certainly didn’t care. Once, Allura’d run her hand over Pidge’s leg, vaguely amused. “I have to remind myself that you humans are a young species, still evolving out of all that unnecessary fur.” 

Now, she works her way up from Pidge’s feet to her calves, digging in just shy of too hard, toeing the line as she works her way up. She repeats the process with the other leg, though this one gets a series of kisses pressed to it, starting at the ankle, working up the inside of a calf, the knob of her knee, and then just an inch down on her thigh, the promise behind it the part that makes Pidge shiver. “Shall I?” Allura asks, ready to dip down into the water and it’s a testament to how blissed out Pidge is that her knee-jerk reaction is no. 

“You-- underwater? How are you gonna _breathe_? Do Alteans just hold their breath for a really long time?” 

“You’re upsetting all my hard work at relaxing you,” Allura chastises, taking a foot again to start working her way back up since it’s the easiest thing to grab. “You are familiar with how I can shift certain parts of myself for when we are intimate, yes? I would simply alter myself to be able to breathe under water.” 

“Wait, gills? You can just give yourself gills?” For a moment, she’s painfully torn. There’s a part of her that desperately wants Allura to get her mouth on her _right now_ , and another, smaller part of her that really wants to see her shift, wants to examine the gills and see how that’d even work when the bath is full of soap. _That’s_ not particularly sexy, though, so they’ll save the gills for next time. “You’re gonna have to show me the gills later.” 

“Mm, I can and will. In the meantime--” Allura slides her hands under Pidge’s thighs and lifts her up like she weighs absolutely nothing at all, depositing her on the warm marble surrounding the pool. She’s wet from the bath enough that her butt slides over the marble when Allura grabs her by the backs of her knees and arranges her so her legs are hanging off the edge into the water again.

“I’m supposed to be spoiling you,” Pidge protests, knowing that it’s not particularly convincing when she’s spreading her thighs and squirming as Allura presses kisses up the damp inside of one of her thighs. She hooks both of her legs over Allura’s shoulders once she’s in close enough and lifts one hand to her breasts, the other going to Allura’s hair to tangle in it. “Are they actually gills?” 

From between her thighs, Allura raises her eyebrows and decidedly doesn’t answer the question, pressing the heat of her mouth between Pidge’s thighs instead, tongue working over her in kittenish licks, slow and steady. 

“I just-- mmmn, harder? There’s soap in the water so if you grew gills, wouldn’t that be similar to inhaling oxygen that’s tainted with some sort o-oh, oh, of-- of a chemical?” Alteans already have greater lung capacity than humans; Pidge isn’t sure how gills would work and also isn’t sure she cares, not when Allura licks over her slow and lingering, just enough pressure to make her squirm. “Unless they’ve adapted to a h-hahhhhhh, Allura. A hostile -- hostile environment. If the water was polluted enough it might, m-might work, _nhh, there.”_

Her hand tightens in Allura’s hair and her hips jerk up in response to two slender fingers sliding inside of her, curving up with unerring certainty. The stone floor feels almost too warm as she squirms over it, water splashing when her foot jerks in response to Allura’s tongue sliding over her clit. Her hand on her chest starts to move belatedly, cupping one of her breasts, fingers playing over a nipple, dragging blunt nails lightly over it and then switching to the other when Allura groans softly while watching her. 

She hasn’t been able to get off purely by Allura’s mouth just yet; Allura works her up until Pidge is close, riding her hand and practically her face, shivering at each too-firm touch to her clit. 

“Up, up. Now,” Pidge pants abruptly, squirming on the tile helplessly. Allura rises out of the water and braces herself over where Pidge is sprawled out on the floor, her own hand dropping down to coax her ovipositor in to nuzzle wetly just under where Pidge’s fingers rest. Trembling, Pidge works two of her fingers against herself as she leans into the kiss Allura offers. It’s more being kissed than actual kissing, most of her concentration drawn to her fingers working between her thighs and the wet slide of Allura’s ovipositor against her, eager. A shift of her wrist and a different bit of pressure, a little harder and Pidge’s cry is swallowed up by another kiss, her hips jerking as she starts to come, fingers working in tight circles. “Now, now, please, _Princess, Allura, please--”_

Between Pidge’s wetness and Allura’s own slick, the wet tip catches and pushes until Allura sinks in as deeply as she can go while Pidge is still coming, clenching around her. Every time it happens, it pushes the line of too much, too good, too fast. Pidge’s thighs shake and her fingers slide slick between her legs as she works in tight little circles to bring herself off again while Allura rolls her hips in steady, slow pushes. Sometimes, they can stretch two orgasms out into three. This isn’t one of the nights where they can, but that’s fine with Pidge given how exhausted both of them are. It takes her own orgasm to coax Allura’s out, some sort of biological thing to do with her ovipositor needing the physical response. Some sort of mating directive, even if they’re not compatible for actual reproduction. Pidge hasn’t had time to study it because most of the time they’re too busy doing something else, but _someday._ She wants to take a closer look at the ovipositor and figure out exactly how Allura’s genitalia work but given that it’s probably available in one of the Altean books and she’s able to read most of it, that’s probably her best bet. 

“Come on, Princess,” Pidge murmurs, the words almost a slur once she comes down from the high of it, slowly rolling her hips up into each shuddery jerk of Allura’s against her. Gently, she slides her hands up from between her thighs, two fingers pressing to Allura’s lips so she can lick them clean. Pidge’s other hand cups the swell of one breast, palm sliding over her nipple lightly. Alteans didn’t differ there, though Allura’s weren’t particularly sensitive so she didn’t care much about attention to them the way Pidge did, where too much attention could mean she ended up too sensitive. 

She’s close- Pidge can tell from the way Allura’s eyes flutter shut as she sucks wetness from Pidge’s finger, hips jerking in unsteady thrusts. Her thighs tighten around Allura’s waist when she sinks in one final time, simply grinding in, gasping abruptly. “Katie--”

Truthfully, she’d never given much thought to the whole _your lover calls your name when they come_ thing, but now she gets the point of it. It’s thrilling, knowing that she’s the reason Allura was this worked up, that as Allura rides out her own orgasm, _she did this_. She could probably tease a third orgasm out of herself but doesn’t particularly need to, content where she is as Allura trembles above her. Instead, she tugs her fingers out of Allura’s mouth and guides her down for another kiss, rolling her hips up idly just for the way it makes Allura make a shuddery, hungry noise into the kiss. 

Eventually, they have to breathe; Allura pulls back and out with a wet, filthy noise that makes Pidge shiver with the lingering feeling of fullness, and then promptly drapes herself over Pidge. She’s not putting her full weight, since Pidge can still breathe and isn’t uncomfortable, but it’s not a sustainable position, either. “I don’t think I can feel my legs yet,” Pidge says after a moment of contemplating it. Her body still feels a little tingly and her thighs haven’t quite stopped shaking just yet, either. Nice. “Thanks.” 

Slowly, like she’s actually the thousands of years old that she is, Allura pulls herself away and kisses a knee on her way back, smiling. “Did you feel that?” 

“Dunno. Better kiss it again to be sure,” Pidge lifts a leg and laughs a little when it trembles a little. “But really, if you were gonna grow gills, could you breathe if the water was all soapy, or would we have to use plain bathwater?” 

“Perhaps I should have urged you toward a third if you’re still so concerned about gills,” Allura says dryly, kissing the inside of Pidge’s thigh before pulling back the rest of the way. The pampering isn’t over yet, apparently, because Pidge winds up tugged into Allura’s arms and painstakingly dried off, even her hair. When she tries to return the favor, Allura shoos her to the bathroom to finish and simply twists her hair up into a damp knot while sitting in front of the mirror. “Do fetch your socks, please.” 

“Already got ‘em.” The floors are immaculate once more which is why they spend most of their time in Allura’s bedroom, not in Pidge’s where stepping on spare mechanical parts is basically a given. She finishes cleaning up in the bathroom after a few moments, flushing and washing her hands. The armor ends up in a pile on a chaise next to the bed instead of on it and Pidge crawls up into bed, scooting under the covers with a small groan of protest. “If you guys are so advanced, how is it there are still cold sheets. If I were a super smart alien race, that’d be the first thing I’d do.” 

A moment later, Allura rounds the corner, still blessedly naked, Altean markings glowing soft pink in the dim light of the room. When she crawls into the bed, Pidge shamelessly jams her cold hands under Allura’s breasts, spooning up against her from behind. “Would you believe me if I said it was because we like to encourage company in bed? It’s much warmer with two, after all.” 

Not being able to look at Allura’s face means she can’t tell if that’s total bullshit or not. “I don’t think I believe that at all, but I’ll let it slide.” Another kiss, this time to a line of pink down Allura’s shoulderblade, spiraling marks that trace all the way down to the small dimples just above the curve of her butt. “I wanna talk about gills tomorrow.” 

Whatever Allura says - if anything, is lost to the blackness of sleep swallowing her up until morning.

**Author's Note:**

> ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯ lol
> 
> anyway I yell about dumb shit, real life, video games, fandom (voltron, mcu, other stuff) on [Twitter](https://twitter.com/SarahKFetter). Come yell at me about Voltron and fic tbh, I always love that.


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